


Predator

by astrugglingwriter



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Broken Stiles Stilinski, Control Issues, Gen, Hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Loss of Control, POV First Person, Violence, Wolf Derek, Wolfed Out Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-15
Updated: 2016-11-06
Packaged: 2018-08-22 14:04:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8288380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrugglingwriter/pseuds/astrugglingwriter
Summary: Derek Hale goes for a hunt in the woods when he finds an unsuspecting Stiles Stilinski. Derek tries to control his wolf's instincts so he won't hurt the boy but his wolf might just be too strong.The taste of blood still lingers on my teeth and lips. I moan as I lick at it, eager to have more. How did my life come to this? Dependent on the thrill of the kill. I couldn’t help myself. My human side would argue with my wolf, trying to make him feel some sort of compassion. Telling him not to do it and that it isn’t right. But in the end, it’s my wolf that always wins. He is the devil on my shoulder. He is a predator. He needs to kill. He longs for it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Hello Everyone! I've been working on this short story for a while now, but have been so busy that I couldn’t dedicate much time to it. I've finally finished it though and will be posting within the span of the next few weeks. Please let me know what you think!

The taste of blood still lingers on my teeth and lips. I moan as I lick at it, eager to have more. How did my life come to this? Dependent on the thrill of the kill. I couldn’t help myself. My human side would argue with my wolf, trying to make him feel some sort of compassion. Telling him not to do it and that it isn’t right. But in the end, it’s my wolf that always wins. He is the devil on my shoulder. He is a predator. He needs to kill. He longs for it.

Even now as I stand in the middle of the woods. The moon shines bright and full above, intensifying my wolf’s cravings to hunt. 

I know I must submit to him at times, especially under the moon. It makes me sick but I can’t keep him bottled up. If I do, his desires increase. His appetite intensifies. His rage builds up so much that it will eventually burst on the slightest temptation. 

I would be powerless against his repressed impulses and that could get an innocent person killed…

It has gotten an innocent person killed…

As a result of learning from my past mistakes; I frequently take very long walks, or even a run, depending on how I feel, out to the middle of the woods that surround my house. I go to where no one else could possibly be around. And I hunt.

I hunt anything that satisfies my wolf’s blood lust. Deer, rabbit, beaver, rodent. Even bird. Whatever I can catch and sink my teeth into, I let my wolf take it’s life.

It keeps him at bay enough to where I can control him comfortably and not have to worry about his hunger becoming too strong that he lashes out again.

My wolf’s whining pulls me from my thoughts. He’s waiting for me to open his cage inside my mind and let him out to play. He wants me to willingly grant him his little bit of freedom to use the body we share.

I, reluctantly, begin to give him the control he wants so that he may ease his urge to kill. This process takes some time, though. I do it slowly that way he understands that between us, I am the dominant one. That when he is in charge of our body, it is because I allow it.

My ears are the first to shift. They can sense all the different sounds of the woods from miles away. The running water of the nearby stream. The rustling leaves as the wind rushes past them. The chattering of animals that have not found sleep yet.

I listen to my surroundings, focusing my hearing on what creatures are here with me tonight. Figuring out which ones will not be here by morning.

I then let my wolf take control of my nose, a sensational intake of all the various scents flood my nostrils. I smell the family of bunnies a mile from my left, the badgers resting 30 ft to my right, a few deer walking away a few miles behind me, and...

What’s that? I quirk my head as a new smell touches my nose. I hear my wolf whine louder as I take a deeper inhale of the intoxicating, familiar scent that we haven’t been around in what feels like ages. It smells wonderful. Not like any animal that is my usual prey. No. It emanates a variety of delectable odors that no animal can mimic.

I can smell the Old Spice Pure Sport body wash he uses that contrasts with the Axe Shock body spray he wears. I can detect the smell of pizza he ate for dinner, lingering in his breath. The salt from his sweat coating his body. The Tide and Downy that he no doubt uses to clean his clothes. Except for his sweatshirt that has his specific, boyish scent embedded into it.

I can feel my wolf drooling. It took over control to my mouth without my permission, my teeth enlarging and becoming canine-like. The teenage boy has to be a mile and a half ahead of me, but I can still taste the self-satisfaction and thrilling energy within the gust of wind that flurries passed me from his direction. 

I can tell he likes the feeling he gets when he runs alone through the woods late at night with nothing to guide him apart from the light of the full moon. He likes the exhilaration of the danger it possesses. I don’t think the boy has ever actually encountered anything dangerous in his life. If he had, he would not be out here tonight. That’s for sure.

I start pulling my wolf back into his cage, undoing the shift, not wanting to take the chance for him to harm the boy. Even though he shouldn’t be out in the woods in the middle of the night in the first place. He should be at home instead. Where it is safe and he doesn’t have to worry about being the very thing that indulges the Big Bad Wolf’s hunger.

But I have to be the responsible one. I know he has no clue about my kind or anything else that goes bump in the night. So I will force my wolf to hunt another time. Even if he does give me attitude for it. I would rather deal with that than the boy’s blood on my hands.

I can hear my wolf snarl at me inside my head. I realize that this is the first time we have been near a human in… Well, I don't even know how long. I’ve kept us apart from society as much as possible. 

I regret that now because we aren't accustomed to the smell of humans anymore. My wolf forgot how desirable a human’s scent can be and he aches for it like a drowning person would ache for air. 

Just a bit closer. My wolf tries to convince me that his intentions are harmless. I won’t hurt him. Just want to see him.

I see no harm in just looking at the boy, but I know my wolf better than that. I know he only wants to trick me so that he can get close enough to the boy that his hunger goes into a frenzy that I won’t be able to hold back.

No. I tell him. We are going home tonight. We’ll hunt tomorrow.

At this, my wolf growls. He doesn't like when I tell him what to do. He scratches and claws at his cage; but for the moment, I have control. I cut him off from all my senses, making it easier to keep him in. I can’t let him harm another innocent kid.

I try to start walking away, towards the other side of the forest or just anywhere away from where the boy is running. But as I attempt to turn around, my legs stop me. I can’t move them at all. The only motion they seem to be able to perform is a slight tremor from wanting to obey my order to move but not having the ability to do so because my wolf won’t allow it. My wolf is fighting for control over my body and refuses to let me leave without giving him what he wants.

While struggling with him, I feel his desires as if they are my own. To not give in to them, to not give him what he wants is mentally painful. It’s like I’m going against my own instincts. I’m denying everything I am. Everything that I don’t want to be. It’s making me weak because it means that I’m not just fighting my wolf. I’m fighting myself.

My wolf is quickly exhausting me, his desires fueling his strength and giving him so much more power than my human half has. If I want to win against him, I need to rely on something more than my strength. I need to rely on my mind. To out smart him is my only chance at saving this kid’s life.

I need to be calm.

I need to concentrate.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

I mumble this aloud to myself, taking my focus away from my wolf and his needs for a few moments. I’m finding myself gaining some relief from this the more times I repeat it.

I let out a deep exhale that I didn’t know I was keeping in.

I am the Alpha of this body. Not you. I tell him, reasserting my dominance. I am in control.

Just as I begin to think that I have full control over my body, I hear a faint voice snarl in the back of my head, Control is overrated.

With that, my wolf bashes hard against my skull. I’m winded from the pain as I’m knocked to my knees. I hold my head tight, hoping it will ease some of the heavy pounding.

Let go, he sings, knowing what he is doing to me. Just let go.

No.

Another assault of throbbing torture spikes through me. If I had any breath left in me, I would have screamed out. My wolf has never put me through this much pain before. I feel as if my head is about to explode, and if I’m being honest, the relief of that would be so welcome rather than enduring this for much longer.

Let. Go. He commands.

A tremor runs through me as tears begin welling up in my eyes.

I. Can’t. Not again. Please, not again. 

The pain disappears as he chuckles. The knot that was in my throat smoothes out and I gasp for air, leaning on a tree that stands to my right.

I’m thankful for the relief, but why? Why did he release me? He doesn’t give in easily. He just doesn’t. He is as stubborn as I am. What is he   
planning?

Feet treading their way nearby answers my questions. The boy is close.

I hear my wolf rumbling to himself.

I need to get out of here. Now.

I begin to lift myself, but before I can stand up, the agony that was in my head a moment ago returns worse than ever. I whimper on my knees, eyes squeezed tightly shut as I press my forehead into the dirt.

LET ME OUT! My wolf bellows.

I don’t answer him out of fear. That, and because the pain is fogging my thinking process so much that all I know is that I want this to stop.

I can barely make out a muffled voice in the distance when my wolf releases me again. I gasp for air, weakly. Very weakly. I tremble as I look up towards the faint and garbled voice.

My vision is blurry, but it clears in time for me to see a confused looking pale and scrawny boy walking in my direction. He wears gym clothes and a red sweatshirt zipped half way up. In all honesty, he didn’t seem like someone who would go out for a jog that often. His strained, heavy breathing confirms it.

“Hello?” The boy called, searching in my direction. “Is someone there?”

He hasn’t noticed me yet.

Of course. The moon’s light is bright, but it isn’t bright enough for the boy to make out my figure in the tree’s shadow. He stops about 15 feet in front of me, squinting his eyes in my direction. I notice him reach into his pocket to grab a small, black device. A beam of light turns on not a moment later.

I watch him as his light finds me. At first, it quickly passes, but the boy hastily flashes it back so it is brightly shining on my face. He takes a step back, his mouth hanging open.

I hear his heart pounding against his chest. It’s beating so fast. The rhythm of it is almost soothing until a breeze drifts my way and a wave of the boy’s many odors tickles my nostrils. A groan escapes me without my permission.

I can feel my fangs growing in, drool dripping from them.

Oh, no. I’m shifting.

I’m shifting and I can’t control it.

No, no, no, no.

He needs to get away. His scent is driving my wolf out.

I want to tell him to run. Run as far away as possible and as fast as he can. I don’t want to hurt him. This kid. This innocent and stupid kid who has barely experienced life yet. I don’t want to be the reason that he goes through the rest of his life guarded or crippled. Unable to trust anyone. Always on edge. Refusing to take chances. It would strip away everything that life is meant to be. All because I’m weak.

The boy stands there, frozen and unable to move a muscle as he gawks at me. My claws digging into the Earth. My pointed ears. My cringed up nose. I couldn’t even hold back the short and ragged panting from coming out. The longer the boy stands there, the harder it’s getting to resist my wolf.

No! No, we aren’t going to do this. I’m not going to let it happen.

My wolf snickers at me. I don’t need your permission anymore.

Fear creeps through my body with the realization that he’s right. I can’t stop him. I look up at the boy with wide eyes to warn him to run, but all that escapes me is the daunting laugh of my wolf as my calm sea green eyes are consumed by a blood thirsty, dark red.


	2. An Insatiable Desire

My teeth bared, I stand up slowly, never breaking eye contact with the shaky figure in front of me that seemed to forget how to move or breath. I shift my neck from side to side, cracking it.

It feels so good. Being in control again.

And to have this sight in front of me. A meal. A small meal, but a meal none the less. I won’t complain. I’ll enjoy ripping his throat out and tasting the blood that flows beneath. Feeling his warm flesh torn apart by my claws. What more could I ask for?

I’m so ready to pounce now and get what I want, but I don’t want this to end so fast. I have to drag this out. I haven’t been entertained with a human meal in so long. They are the best kind of meal and I’m not going to waste this gift wrapped opportunity. No, I’m not. I’m going to enjoy this for as long as I can.

I curl my lips up into a smirk as I stare, fixated on my prey. His heart is beating at a speed that is remarkably similar to a rabbit’s. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. I can barely stifle a chuckle as I draw in a deep breath, holding it a moment to let the boy’s anxiety escalate. Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. Then I release a vicious, tree shaking roar that sparks us both into action.

The boy jumps, yelping with fright as he falls backwards, dropping his phone in the process. He scurries back, away from me as he picks himself up and starts running in the opposite direction.

Let the hunt begin, I think to myself with a wicked smile.

My own heart pounding inside my chest, I begin to chase after him with ease. Not directly behind him, but towards the side, hidden within the forest. I’m fooling him into thinking that he might have some sort of distance between us. To taunt him. To play with his mind.

When I say ‘humans are the best kind of meal,’ it’s not only for their taste. It’s also for the fun of it. You can toy with humans. You can feel more within them than just the rapid heartbeat as you would a small, fearful animal. Humans get anxious and upset. They try to out think you and have hope that they will outrun you. But the moment when they are finally caught and come to the sudden realization that they are about to die and start begging you for their life. It is unlike any other feeling in the world. It is a feeling of power. Pure power. To know that I am smarter and stronger in every way.

I must savor this opportunity given to me tonight. Sure, I shouldn’t play with my food, but who can help it when it’s this exhilarating.   
I listen to the boy’s ragged breathing as he sprints back up his trail, towards safety. Does he think he is going to be fast enough? Fast enough to out run a wolf? How admirable. 

I stealthily run in front of him and to the right, still hidden by the night’s darkness, to let out a low growl that rips through the air. The boy yells in surprise. Not having heard me move around him, he almost loses balance as his feet slide across the ground and he changes direction. He goes off of the trail, both away from me and away from his safe haven. 

I change our direction multiple times, leading him deeper and deeper into the forest before I finally convince myself that the boy is lost enough to not have a clue where he is or even how to get back.

I grin with joy as I run up directly behind him. I’m on his tail and without him realizing it, I lean forward to growl inches away from his ear.

The boy immediately ducks away from my voice, crying out and losing his balance. He falls hard to the ground, rolling a few times before coming to a stop, lying on his back. A few grunts escape his mouth from the wind being knocked out of him.

I stop, out of sight. The nearby trees granting me with an abundance of hiding places. 

The boy sits up, lungs begging for air. He looks around frantically, trying to see through the darkness. His lack of knowledge for where I am gives him a vulnerable look that makes me hum.

I can see the fear in the boy’s innocent, honey brown eyes as he cautiously gets to his feet, still panting and shaking slightly from the adrenaline pulsing through his body.

The boy whips his head to the right as he hears me crack a twig. Then he whips his head to the left as another snaps. He swings his head in the direction of any small noise that is made whether it is by me or not.

“Where are you?” He yells into the night air, his anxiety weighing down on him. His movements are spastic as he attempts to have a view of all his surroundings, bracing himself for my presence to appear from any direction. “My dad’s the sheriff and believe me when I tell you that he will have every cop looking for me if I go missing, alright?” The more he speaks, the less confident his words grow until they are nothing but wary murmurs. “So just save yourself the trouble.”

I laugh maliciously, the sound booming through the trees. The boy cringes, not expecting such a loud reaction. He glances around, listening to where it is all originating from. I see his wide eyes and hear his heart beating so fast. Thump thump thump. So much like a rabbit’s. I smirk, thinking to myself. He is my little rabbit. “Don’t worry, little rabbit,” I coo. Slowly, beginning to walk forward, stopping just before I can come into view. His body is turned, facing the trees to the left of where I’m standing while his head tilts slowly in my direction. Uneasiness settling on his face as his eyes dart around the shadows that still hide me. I tell him, in a low and more sadistic voice, “I’ll be done with you before they ever find out you were gone.”

He lets out a shaky exhale, struggling to speak his next words. “Please.” he chokes out. “Just. Just leave me alone! I’ll walk away and won’t say a thing.” He pleads with me. “I won’t bother you again. I just want to go home.” I hear the desperation in his voice that I’ve craved for so long. I can tell that he is finally coming to the conclusion that he won’t be able to outrun me. That he is my victim until I allow him to leave. There is nothing he can do. The poor little rabbit is helpless with nowhere else to run.

“No, no little rabbit. I don’t think you will find your rabbit hole tonight.” I jest, emerging from my hiding place at last. He turns to fully face me, getting a second look at what I am. His eyes grow wide at my animalistic features, once again losing the ability to breath normally. Every agonizingly slow step I take towards him, he matches it by taking one back. I chuckle, smelling all the nerves that radiate off of him. 

“Wh-what are you?” He stutters while continuing to walk backwards, stumbling on a tree root sticking up from the ground. He quickly catches himself and regains his composure without ever once diverting his eyes from mine. No doubt, he is trying to ensure I won't make any unsuspecting movements towards him. Smart little rabbit. He knows that you should never turn your gaze away from the enemy.

“Is little rabbit scared?” I ask, amused. My eyes narrow as I wear a sneer that dares him to object to the name I’ve given him. His eyebrows furrow at it but he only timidly shakes his head in response. It’s remarkable. He is still trying to appear brave even though every one of his body’s actions betray him as they prove otherwise. That tells me that I’m going to be having a lot of fun with this one. That his body will break before his mind does. He is going to fight with all he has in him until his heart beats no more. I’ve always liked a challenge and it seems that my little, brave, smart, innocent, weak, slow, defenseless, youthful, rapid heart beating rabbit is going to give me just that.

My claws itch to grab ahold of him and it’s getting harder and harder for me to not act out. The boy is backed up against a giant pine tree now and is beginning to inch around it, uncomfortable with the idea of not being able to move away any further. I won’t have any of that though. I pick up my pace, closing the distance between myself and my meal with one stride in the blink of an eye. My motions are so quick, he doesn't have time to react before I wrap my hand tightly around his throat, pinning him to the tree. Slowly, I begin to squeeze the life out of him.

He whimpers as he grabs at my hand, nails digging into it. I tighten my clutch even more so, making it impossible for another sound to escape his mouth. I feel the rush of his pulse against my firm grip as panic sets in. He writhes and squirms, trying to ease my hold on his windpipe. I see his tears building in his eyes and his face becoming deeper shades of red the more he thrashes. He starts punching and grabbing at me desperately, but to no avail because the pressure never loosens. His efforts are useless against my iron grip, and with every second that passes, his hopes for survival are dwindling away.

I stare at him, mesmerized, his terrified eyes screaming back at me. He strains himself to try and breath but catches no relief for the pain that is forming in his lungs. I feel his body becoming weaker as his strength leaves him from lack of oxygen. He can barely hold himself up any longer as he begins to slip away.

Without fully letting go, I loosen my grip around his throat, allowing him access to air once again. He chokes as he gulps it down, greedily. Shivering, color flushes back into his face. His chest heaves as he calms himself down from nearly passing out. I glance down to where my hand presses him against the tree. A warm liquid has seeped onto my fingers from the gashes I made with my claws. It seems I had been holding on a little too tightly.

I move my hand a few inches down to his collar bone, still having a secure hold on him, so that I might see the damage I’ve done. I gaze at the wound, blood smeared all around it. It isn’t as bad as it looks. Nothing life threatening. I can still continue to play with my rabbit.

I feel my pupils dilate as I continue to stare at the red substance. I inch closer to the boy’s throat. Even though I’m able smell it from the distance that is between us, I still want to get closer to it. The boy tries to jerk away, but my other hand comes up and grabs his shoulder. With both hands now holding onto him, I push him hard against the tree behind him so that he won't budge again. A whimper escapes his lips from the added pressure, his whole body now so tense that it shakes, but that doesn’t phase me. He holds his breath, turning away, as I lean in. Centimeters away, I take in a deep inhale of what has caused this whole incident in the first place. 

A rumble forms from inside my chest as I let out a strained exhale. The aroma consumes me once again, making my mouth hang open, ready to taste the liquid. My stomach feels like a pit, eating itself. It aches with longing. I tense up, allowing my teeth to brush across his skin. I know that if I bite down right now, this will all be over. My hunger for flesh would begin to dissipate and be happily filled. My stomach wouldn’t pain anymore and I wouldn’t be teasing myself with being so close to my meal and not taking a bite. My teeth clamp down gently, about to rip out there first mouthful of relief from the trembling figure.

However, I don’t want this to be over just yet. My game isn’t ready to end. Not while I’m not bored with my playmate yet. We have so much time on our hands and I can look past my hunger while there are other cravings to be dealt with at the moment. I release his throat from my teeth and instead, move my head back so I can get a view of the boy’s face.

“How about now?” I ask him reverting to my previous question that he denied. There is no doubt that he is afraid. Tears have now escaped his eyes as he continues to look away from me. His hands are lifted, quivering uncontrollably, between us. As if they are going to try to stop me if I come too close again. The edge of my mouth lifts in a sort of crooked smile as I take in what I’ve done so far.

“Please,” he sobs. “Just let me go.” He begs, but his begging is only making me want to carry on. My smile widens at his pleas and I feel pride in my chest, knowing that I am succeeding in frightening the boy. But I want to hear more. I have to hear more. Too excited, my claws reach back up to his throat. This time I dig them in rather than suffocating my victim. The pain forces the boy to let out a blood curdling scream that would pierce anyone’s ears, but only soothe mine as it gives me what I want. He grabs at my hands, trying to pry them off of him, but he is no match for my strength.

I watch the blood creep down his neck from the new set of gashes I have just made. This time, I intend to taste it. My claws still digging into the boy, I lean forward again and lick at the oozing liquid without hesitation. The boy cringes away, groaning from the pain, he’s careful not to move too much and cause my claws to inflict any more damage than they already have with their tight grip. I continue lapping it up, the action becoming more feverish the moment the flavor first touches the tip of my tongue.

I pinch harder wanting more to come out. Needing more of it to come out. The boy’s screams can be heard over my ravenous growls in the background but I can’t stop myself. I’m in a trance, trying to please a desire that is insatiable. I feel pressure on my chest as he tries to push me away, but again, he doesn’t meet the physical requirements to match the amount of power I have.

Absentmindedly, I begin to nibble at the surface. My teeth creating fine, red lines. I push in deeper, the urgency to have more possessing my actions until a hard blow to my face pulls me from my stupor and away from the boy’s throat. Without thinking, a snarl rips through me as I glare angrily at the figure inches away from my bared teeth. My breathing has become hard and ragged from the lack of oxygen I was intaking while in my sub-conscious state.

The burning sensation that swells inside me quickly vanishes though as I stare down at the cowering figure facing away from me. The scowl I wear replaces itself with a grin. My little rabbit punched me. A rabbit punching a wolf. It has to be a joke, because of how amusing I find it. What makes it even more amusing is that he’s brave enough to punch me but still can’t bring himself to look at my face. In fact, every inch of his tense and shaky body reeks of fear.

I bring one of my claws up to the boy’s temple that is further away from me, putting pressure on it so that his face turns in my direction, forcing him to look at me. I don’t know if I’m doing it out of enjoying how frightened he is at the sight of me or if it’s because I want to get a better view of the terror that is inevitably present in his features. I’m doing it for both reasons, I suppose. 

Tears stream down the boy’s face, quiet sobs escaping his lips. A shudder runs through him as he sees my blood stained teeth showing through the crooked smile currently preoccupying my face.

“Now, now little rabbit.” I soothe. “There is no reason to cry yet. We are only just getting started,” I chuckle at him. A look of despair creeps on his face. He is coming to a realization that tonight is going to be the longest night of his life. There is going to be a lot of pain and a possibility of him not surviving it at all. Another outbreak of sobs make their way out of the boy, but I can sense that he still isn’t ready to give up the fight for his life just yet. That will all change soon enough. I’m going to make it so that he begs me for death. I’m going to make him scream for it.

I drag my claw down, deep and slow, from his temple all the way to his chin. My ears consume his cries and pleadings to stop. The sound is like ecstasy to me. Maybe I’ll let the boy live long enough for me to record it so I can listen to it whenever I want to.

Blood from the thick slash now residing on the side of the boy’s face trickles onto my fingertip. I remove my claw so that I can place it in my mouth, the iron flavor making my taste buds go insane. How could I have gone so long without preying on the human species? My human half must be deranged to have the discipline to stay away from them for so long. I’m going crazy just thinking that after this night is through, he will be back in control. Pushing me into my cage once again and after my actions tonight, I don’t know when the next time is that he will let me out. He can only keep me contained for so long, but that doesn't stop him from trying. I know him. He will take us out far away from civilization. In the middle of some huge forest that people don't live in. Or he will just lock me away on the nights that I take charge of our body. Allowing me to eat whatever he catches himself and sets beside me so that my bloodlust is at bay but not permitting me to hunt it myself. Either way, I need to take advantage of tonight and make it worth it. 

I look down at my entertainment for the last free night I will have for a long time to come. Because that’s what this teenage boy is to me. He is a thing. A play thing. A toy. He is a treat, given to me by an unknown source for my putting up with my human half’s annoying cautiousness for what’s felt like ages. He is an object that I may do with as I please. He will play my games with me and he isn’t going to like them but I can’t find it within me to care.

I feel the boy trembling in my hold before I release him. My hands rest at my sides, claws still extended. The boy leans against the tree, furrowing his eyebrows in uncertainty. All I did was stare back at him, waiting for him to recover a little before we continue. I have to make sure that his frail, little body can take everything that’s coming to him. I have a history of breaking my toys too soon after acquiring them.

“Are you letting me go?” He asks, all too hopeful.

I quirk my eyebrow at him. How optimistic this boy is. “Not at all,” I chuckle before letting my next three words fall tauntingly from my mouth, ensuring I pronounce each syllable as slowly and distinctly as I can. “My little rabbit.”


	3. A Difficult Decision

Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump. The organ within my rabbit’s chest never disappoints me with reducing it’s accelerated rate. It has a rhythm to it that makes my own heart flutter with excitement. 

I gaze into the teenager’s frantic eyes as they dart around, looking for an escape route, trying to formulate some sort of plan. His breathing is becoming shallow and strained the more I let the panic sink in. That is, until his eyes finally set on the ground near his feet.

He pauses a moment, a look of retaliation spreading across his face, before he looks back up at me. Is he about to do what I think he’s about to do? The boy looks back down, fingers twitching with anticipation, confirming my assumption. 

He’s going to make a run for it. Not only that, but he’s going to fight back. I thought he’d lost all his nerve on the trails but it seems he still has enough of it to face me.

With a final glance in my direction, the boy quickly kneels down, grabbing a fist full of the earth. He turns to throw it in my eyes when I catch his wrist, twisting it painfully. He lets out a yelp as the dirt and rocks slip through his fingers. Still clutching his arm, I stand up forcing him up with me. “Are you not having fun, little rabbit?” I sneer.

The distressed expression he wears contorts with anger as he glares back at me. “Fuck you,” he grits out before spitting in my face. 

Taken aback, I turn away, my jaw tightening as I glower into the distance. I can feel my blood begin to boil, my nose flaring at every hard breath I let out. I reach up, cleaning the dribble off with one swipe of my hand.

I’m going to make him regret that.

Shoving him back against the tree with force, I cause him to lose his balance. I can see the fear in his eyes as he leans on the trunk, unsure of what he might have just done.

My growl rips through the quiet night as I raise my clawed hand, ready to strike. My little rabbit barely has time to turn away, lifting his arms to shield himself, before my claws come down and make contact with his shoulder. I tear through the sweatshirt easily, breaking skin beneath.

He yells out in pain, his knees buckling underneath him as he falls to the ground. He cradles his arm, obliging me with more tears. Seeing him like this is so pleasing that I almost forget his little misdemeanor.

BUT, I’m still not content enough with his punishment. I said that he will regret it, and I don’t think he’s at that point yet.

Smirking, I strike him again, this time meeting his back. My stomach flips as he cries out, and I can’t help but laugh in response. I’ve truly brought the terror back and slammed it right into him.

I’m nothing but gleeful as my little rabbit tries to scramble away from me, sobbing uncontrollably. It’s great! Even his whole body is shaking. But does he really think he can get away from me? No, I’m sure he doesn’t. I’ve noticed that he’s too smart to actually think something so absurd.

I grab one of his legs tightly, digging my claws into it and aggressively taunt, “little rabbit, where do you think you’re going? I’m not done playing.”

The sweet melody of his screams are all that answer me. They drown me into a state of euphoria until they stop, replacing themselves with his grunts and heavy breathing. He clenches his teeth, preventing his distressed song from continuing.

I pull him towards me, filled with need for an encore. Again! Again! Please make that lovely tune again!

I bend down to grab him by his sweatshirt, hoping that I might be able to squeeze it out of him when he flips himself over and kicks me frantically in my nose with his other foot. I release his leg and grab my nose with a roar of pain as I fall back onto the ground, my vision being consumed by patterns of black and dark red mixtures.

——————————————

The sound of someone jumping up and running away is the first thing I hear as I come to. I groan as I hold my nose, opening my eyes to see a clear patch breaking through the tops of the trees and showing the twinkling stars in the deep blue, night’s sky.

I’ve come to the conclusion that my nose is definitely broken. I’m not too worried though. It will probably heal within a few minutes.

What I am worried about, however, is why it is broken. What’s my wolf done now?

Staring up into the night while things shift back to their rightful places in my face, I mull through my more recent memories.

I came out to the woods. I walked for miles, waiting for night. I listened to nearby animals, trying to help my wolf with deciding what his prey might be tonight. Night fell. I shifted…Wait. I began to shift, but stopped.

Shit! The boy! There was a boy.

I shoot up to a standing position so fast that I lose balance and fall straight back down to my hands and knees. My head spins, uncontrollably and I do all I can to keep myself from throwing up. Especially when I notice droplets of red smeared on the leaves in front of me. Oh, I think I might faint. My limbs feel so weak that they could just collapse right from under me.

Sealing my eyes shut, I begin to chant.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

I know this is usually used to prevent myself from shifting, but I found it’s also useful when I just need something to concentrate on and get my mind off of other things. So for now, I’m using it to keep myself grounded.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

God, I don’t have time for this! 

My eyes begin to water with frustration.

I need to know that this kid is ok. Is he managing to get away? Does he need help? Did he get so far and then fall prey to his injuries? ….Did he die? Did I kill him?

A tear strolls down the side of my face and wears itself down before it can fall. It gives me a minuscule amount of relief to help fight the grief I’m feeling.

I can’t let my history repeat itself.

As everything in my equilibrium settles back down, I open my eyes again. I stand up a little faster than I probably should have…again…too frantic to begin my search for a body. You can say I’m very doubtful for any good news. Life has taught me not to be very hopeful in these circumstances.

My head snaps in every direction as I listen to anything within range. I would use my nose to try and sniff out his scent, but it’s too clogged with my own blood to smell him even if he was right in front of my face. I consider calling out for him, but that idea is quickly thrown out the window when I realize that if the boy is still alive, my voice is probably the last thing he wants to hear.

Shaking my head, I let out a quivery breath.

God, what did I do? I’m the definition of a monster. I should be able to control this by now. 

Well, you know what? After tonight, I’m done. He isn’t getting out again. I’m going to lock him up every full moon. He’s not going to get the control he wants. He’s not going to get to hunt. He will never again get the freedom of being able to run through woods with the leaves crushing underneath him.

No. No more chances. He’s done! My wolf is officially grounded for life.

A call for help in the distance grabs my attention from my thoughts. Apart of me is comforted in hearing the boy’s voice, meaning that he isn’t dead, but apart of me realizes the fault here.

You’ve got to be kidding me. Is he stupid? What if my wolf was still in control instead of me? Granted, my wolf would have been able to find him anyway, but still. Say my wolf didn’t know where he was. That would have definitely given away his position.

Lucky for this kid, I’m in control. And lucky for me, this kid is alive. Waving off his slight naiveness, I decide I’m actually very grateful that he called out. I feel so much better now that the sinking of grief isn’t weighing on my chest.

Walking towards his shouts, I hesitate in my tracks. What if I only make things worse by going to him? My wolf got out earlier. Will he be able to do it again?

No, it’s too risky. He will have to figure it out on his own. 

Beginning to walk in the opposite direction, I stop myself, remembering that the boy doesn’t have a clue where he is. He’s lost out here. That’s probably why he’s calling out for help. Not to mention, he’s hurt pretty bad. Bad enough to leave a blood trail…

If I’m able to control my wolf, it still might not do any good. Even if all I wanted to do was help, the boy won’t trust me. He only saw me while I was wolfed out; but with my clothes, the dried blood surrounding my nose, and the sound of my voice….he would know that I’m the wolf. He would be right to not accept my help.

Taking a few more steps forward, I stop myself again. There’s no way he’s going to get out of these woods in the middle of the night when he can’t see anything and he’s probably bleeding out. I’m going to have to help him whether he likes it or not.

Turning around, a wave of uncertainty hits me and I stop myself yet again. No, it will only make it worse. He will figure it out. 

Pulling back, I repeal my thoughts of going anywhere near him. He doesn’t need me. He can do it on his own. What I do need to do is let him do it on his own and never see him ever again in his or my lifetime. That would be the biggest courtesy I can ever do for him.

I’m sure of this as much as I can be sure of anything. Don’t go near him. Go home. Don’t go near him. Go home. Don’t go near him. Go home!

Another shout for help reverses all the progress I just made in doing what I think would be the right thing to do.

“Dammit.” I mutter to myself. I can’t leave him there. It’s my fault he’s out here in the first place. I about-face to go and find the poor boy, hoping that I don’t fuck this up.


	4. A Quivering Lip

The boy turned out to be farther than I thought he would have been able to get, but still not as far as he probably should have been before he started calling out for help. I can understand why he would think it was safe though. He had gotten about half a mile between us. Unfortunately…or fortunately, haven’t decided yet….I was able to jog it in no time at all.

Coming up behind the boy as he slumps against a tree, holding his leg, I can see a look of pain etched on his face. The adrenaline must of worn off so that he can feel his gashes now. Reluctantly, I look down at the torn up flesh and almost gag from the sight. He whimpers, trying to put weight on it, but it protests with every attempt. 

He’s at a standstill, unable to move any further. I’m somewhat glad that I came back to help him now. Otherwise, he would have surely died from blood loss out here.

Getting closer to him, I make an effort to create a little noise in my movements so that I don’t surprise him in my approach.

That doesn’t work.

The boy nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears someone behind him, and then about has a mental breakdown when he sees that it’s me. He falls backwards, unable to keep his balance with his hurt leg.

“No, please!” He begs, holding up a shaky hand as if it would stop me if I still had the intentions of killing him. He begins to cry, “Please don’t! I just want to go home. Please, just let me go home. Please!”

My heart completely shatters. Completely. There are no pieces left that I would consider to be whole.

He’s defeated. He’s truly broken down and knows that there’s no way of him saving himself if I decided to finish him off. Of course, he doesn’t know that it’s me which is favorable for the both of us.

Holding up my hands to show him that I mean no harm, I stay where I am so that I don’t scare him more. “I’m sorry,” is all I’m able to mumble out as the boy’s reaction towards me seizes my heart.

The boy looks confused and upset as he continues to keep his guard up. He slowly scoots himself further away from me, frightened of our close proximity even though I’m at least 20 feet away from him.

“Please don’t run again,” I plead. Hopefully my expression is giving off some form of sincerity, because I need him to believe me when I tell him, “I want to help you get home.”

So many looks cross his face in such a short amount of time. Stunned, surprise, puzzlement, wonder, caution, eagerness, hope, uncertainty, shame, helplessness, distrust, and then finally anger.

“Why are you doing this?” He spat, hatefully.

I stayed silent, unsure of how to answer him in a way that might convince him that I really do mean well.

Shaking his head with exhaustion, he continues. “Look, man. I just want to go home, ok? I’m done playing your ‘games.’ I’m going to go home.” Saying the last bit with more certainty as if it was going to go exactly the way he said it, he rambled on. “I’m going to leave, go home, have a cold bath, make some hot cocoa, take a sip of it, throw it out because I don’t know how to make hot cocoa, play a game online, knock out around 6:30 in the morning, wake up at 7 to go to school because I forgot that tonight is Sunday night and tomorrow morning will be Monday morning, then end up passing out in my classes later and receive a detention for it sometime later in the day. Probably in Chemistry…Yea, probably then…A-a-and I’m going to continue on with my life as if none of this ever happened. I’m going to forget you exist. I’m going to forget that any of this happened. And I’m going to make a mental clip note to never come out into the woods ever again. But since I’m going to forget that this all ever happened, I’m just going to have to give myself the reasoning that someone as skinny and fragile and pale as me is far better suited to staying inside and being a nerd on my computer where it is safe and there aren’t monsters and…and….and….well, I don’t know what else, but I know there is plenty more to add on to that.”

He was heaving now. I think that’s why he stopped talking. Red faced and out of breath, we both remained quiet for a few moments before I broke it and told him, “I just want to help you get back so that can all actually happen.”

I am a wounded dog. That’s how I feel right now. I don’t even care that I used a dog reference, because that is what I am. His words hurt me. His reactions hurt me. His pain still hurts me. And I’m not even allowed to feel bad about it, because it’s all my fault.

“Why should I trust you?” He asks, harshly.

“You shouldn’t.” I admit. It’s true. Why deny him the truth? “But right now, I’m the only one who knows where we are and can get you out of here.”

He scoffs, but doesn’t say anything. I don’t think either of us really know what else to say. And I’m not good with my people skills so I have no clue what I’m supposed to do now. Was his lack of answer him warming up to the idea of accepting my offer? Was it a sign that he’s finished hearing what I have to say and wants me to disappear from this moment so that he can go back to hobbling away? Do I ask if I can help him again? Or do I give him a chance to make the first move and wait for his reply whether it be yes or no?

How is anyone supposed to know what to do? 

I pause a moment, wondering to myself. Maybe I’ll just be honest with him. I’ll tell him everything and see how he takes it. You know, because everything gets better with over talking. Plus, it’s not like anyone’s going to believe him if he repeats what I say.

“My name is Derek by the way,” I begin. He glares at me. “And I’m truly sorry for what happened back there.”

More glaring.

“Ok…so, I guess I should explain. I’m a werewolf. Yes, they’re real. And tonight was the full moon. I couldn’t control my wolf when he smelled you running by. He took over and that’s who you met back there. Not me. You kicking him in the face helped me regain control over myself.”

Kind of blunt; however, it’s short, sweet and fairly understandable.

He looks at me like I’m crazy, but I let my words process for a moment so he can fully take it in. His reaction somewhat surprises me too. He seems to believe everything I tell him. That could possibly be because there is nothing else to explain a half wolf man attacking you on the night of the full moon in the middle of the woods. My story adds up.

“A werewolf?” He asks in a way someone would verify information to make sure they remembered it for a test.

I nod my head. He’s taking it better than I thought he would have. “Is it ok if I help you get out of here?” I ask, wanting to get a move on before his condition worsens. He appears very sickly and it’s only a matter of time before he faints from being too weak.

“How do I know that it won’t take control over you again? Or if you are really him just acting like you so that you can trick me into thinking you’re really you when you’re actually him?” He interrogates me, uncertainly.

Both very good questions…I think…I don’t know. The second question kind of confuses me, but I know he wants a quick response so I won’t leave him waiting for one. “You won’t be able to know if he will take control again. But I promise, I’ll do my best to keep him back. If I sense him at all, I’ll tell you to run. And you know I’m me, because I don’t have fangs or claws or red eyes.”

He shudders when I mention my wolf’s eyes, but considers my answer. “I’m Stiles,” he finally says and I accept that as my permission to have some of his trust. For now. I know it’s only for these next few hours or however long our journey to civilization will be, but I’ll take what I can get.

Slowly walking forward to make sure it’s ok, Stiles tenses but still allows me to approach and aid him in standing up again. “You know, this would be a lot easier if I just carried you,” I point out.

“Hey now, I’m not your damsel in distress. I can walk on my own if I have to. I’m not completely useless.” He grumbles, still uneasy about this whole situation. I’m taken aback a little, but I get it.

I nod, hanging his arm over my shoulder and grabbing ahold of his side that way he can lean the majority of his weight on me. His breath hitches in his throat as his heart hammers against his chest from our close proximity, but he doesn’t object.

He nods, letting me know he’s ready and we commence our trek to getting him the hell out of here.

Our walk is uncomfortably slow, having it take nearly half an hour to reach only one mile away. We still have about 10 miles to go until we get to a main road, and then there’s either signaling someone down or getting to the nearest town which is 20 miles away after that. He had to have driven out here. 

“Where did you park your car?” I ask him, debating on whether I should drive him to the hospital or take him to the road so someone can pull aside and pick him up.

“On the hideaway road on Madison Street. It’s right off the 55. You take the right on Madison and the hideaway road is about a few miles up the road to the left.” He explains, sounding out of breath from all this extra exertion. Though, no matter how tired he seems to be, he never once relaxes next to me. He’s always on edge and shaky with me by his side, prepared for me to be lying and wolf out on him randomly. I don’t blame him. My wolf scares me too.

“Do you live near there or do you just know random hideaway roads?” I know the side road he’s talking about. It’s about four miles away. This makes things easier. Well, easier than it would have been.

“Just know.” He heaves, speaking only as much as he has to so he doesn’t waste his energy. I leave him to concentrate on remaining upright after that. I need to focus on staying calm and collected anyway. It seems we both have our own issues to deal with at the moment.

As we go along, I notice how strong the smell of his blood is getting. It’s making me sick. A thought of eating him flashes across my mind. I look down at the adolescent kid clinging to my side for support, tears still streaming down his face from the pain he’s in. The pain that I inflicted on him. Disgust washes over me. I’m truly ashamed of myself for not being strong enough. How could I let this happen again?

Well at least this time I didn’t let my wolf finish the job. And this time, it’s not a little girl playing by the water who got lost from her family’s camping trip. My wolf made a fast meal out of her. He didn’t tease her as much as he did with Stiles. It was probably because he knew he had more time with him.

“How far is it from here?” Stiles asks hesitantly, pulling me out of my reverie.

I can feel my wolf hum in his cage as he hears the fear in Stiles’ voice. I ignore it, pushing him away. “Just a few more miles up. Are you sure you don’t want me to just carry you? It would make it faster.” I try to persuade him. I would rather get him there and have this all over and done with.

Stiles glowers at me, “I’m positive. Just get me to grandma’s house. Ok?”

I suppress a smirk at his response, because I know he’s not in a mood to laugh, but how can he still make jokes at a time like this? He’s traumatized but still holds his composure. That’s pretty admirable, one might say. Not many people can do that.

I notice his face getting paler. He’s bleeding a lot.

And then it hits me again. Another wave of the scent of his blood. My wolf moans longingly. 

No. You aren’t getting out again. Not for a long time until I feel like I can trust you to behave yourself. And then, I still won’t let you out. I’m standing my ground with this and I mean it when I say You. Are. Done.

My wolf responds by chuckling at me even though I believe I’m the most serious about this than I’ve ever been before. Watch Me, he growls.

And just like that, it’s as if a bomb explodes within my head, sending Stiles and myself crashing to the ground. I clutch my head, gritting my teeth at the sharp pain. My skull is on fire. 

“What the hell, man?” Stiles exclaims, angrily in my direction.

I groan in agony as my wolf tears at my insides, determined to break free.

Detecting that something is wrong, Stiles scoots back, his nerves going haywire. “Are you ok? Is it coming back?” I’m not the only one who can hear the fear in his voice.

I cry out from the torment my wolf assaults me with, barely able to snarl, “Run!” to Stiles before my walls come tumbling down and my vision is clouded by a deep, scarlet red.

——————————————————————————

The boy gets up, racing away from me as fast as he can without looking back. Well, more like hurriedly limping. The adrenaline that’s kicked back into him is probably the only thing keeping him up.

Not wasting time, I bound after him, catching up in seconds. No desire to play with my food any longer, I tackle him to the ground with a fierce growl bursting out of my mouth from all of the excitement. He screams as we tumble, landing with an ‘oof’ before he struggles to scurry away.

“Derek! Please don’t do this!” He begs me. I’m on top of him, immediately, pinning him down. He covers himself, weeping as he does so. He’s a blubbering mess, the terror practically throws itself at me, eager for me to consume it. His screams fill the night as I slash at his body, tearing through him. His back, arms, neck, sides. Everything I can reach in front of me until he finally lays still and quiet. 

Satisfaction comes over me as my little rabbit’s blood drenches my face. I can’t help but lick it off my lips and hands as I enjoy myself. Nibbling here, biting there. I take my time until I’m content with my kill.

Humming with pleasure, I let out an exhausted breath. It’s been a long night and this was just the release I needed.

The orders of my human amuse me as he demands that I ‘let him out.’ I laugh, more to myself. He doesn’t know how to let loose and have a little fun every now and then. I grin, picking up the boy’s limp arm to let it fall to the ground again. This was most definitely what I like to call fun.

A thought crosses my mind, making me shiver, delightedly. I know just what else might make it even more fun.

The human wants to come out? Well, let’s not refuse him. He can come out and deal with this mess and see what he’s done to this ‘poor little boy.’

Snickering, I pull myself back inside. I lay down in my cage, allowing my human to take over as I drift off to sleep.

————————————————————————

I look down at the blood on my hands. I’m in a sort of haze as I rub the thick, red liquid between my fingers, lazily. It’s such a full color. And shiny. It’s so mesmerizing that I almost don’t notice the still boy beneath me until I shake myself out of my stupor.

“No,” I breath out. “No, no, no.”

I fall off of him, examining the work that my wolf has done. “No, no, no.” I repeat over and over. My hands are trembling with fear as they hover over his wounds, too afraid to touch him. “No, no, no.” I whimper.

He can’t be dead. He isn’t dead. It’s not real. This isn’t real. I didn’t do this again.

“No,” I have to help him. I have to wake him up. I haul the kid into my arms, shaking him a bit. His head hangs to the side at an awkward angle that makes my neck hurt. “No, come on!” I cry out, grabbing his face. “Look at me. Hang in there. Just hang in there. I’m going to get you help. You’re going to be fine.”

But his eyes don’t open. He shows no acknowledgment of my words.

“NO!” I shout angrily. “LOOK AT ME! OPEN YOUR EYES! PLEASE!” I beg him. I can’t deal with this. I can’t deal with my wolf any longer. I don’t know what to do. All I want is for this boy to open his eyes.

“Stiles!” I croak his name as I begin to weep into his shoulder. “Please wake up!”

I take heavy breaths as I hold him as tight as I can. I don’t know him, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is that others did know him and I took him away from them. They didn’t get to say good bye. They won’t get to see his smile or hear his laughs anymore. He won’t grow up to meet a girl that he will fall in love with and want to marry one day and start a family together. Hell, maybe he’s already found that girl and I’ve taken him from her too.

So many lives are going to be effected from taking this one. Those lives are going to be put through grief and suffering just like that little girl’s family were put through. Except this kid is older and he’s probably touched even more people’s hearts.

I don’t know what to do. I want to stop this from ever happening again, but I don’t know how. I try so hard to resist my wolf, but he’ll always be stronger than me and I know it. I have to kill him, but the only way of doing that is by killing myself and I don’t want to die. Granted, I don’t have much of a life to live for anyway. That doesn’t stop me from being scared of death.

Looking down at Stiles’ blank expression, shame burns inside of me. I’m so selfish. Thinking about being afraid of death when this kid had no choice in the matter. How many bodies are going to be stacked up, because I can’t control my wolf and I’m too scared to do what needs to be done.

My tears blur my vision and I have to blink furiously to see the boy’s face at all.

“I’m sorry.” I whisper, grief taking away the volume in my voice. “I couldn’t save you. I tried, but I couldn’t do it. I should have left you to find your way. I should have gone home. At least then, you would have had a fighting chance. I’m so sorry.”

I bring him back into my embrace, holding him, firmly. Ignoring my cheek as it begins to sting when I rest it against his head, I close my eyes and listen to the crickets chirping in the darkness around me in an attempt to calm myself down.

I have to figure out what to do next? If I should leave him here and let him become one of the many unsolved cases of Beacon Hills? Do I take him to his car and leave him there to let someone find his body and diagnose it as an animal attack? I can’t take him to the hospital and tell them that I did it.

The stinging in the side of my face surprises me out of my thoughts as it turns into a harsh burning sensation. “Ow!” I exclaim as I jerk my head away from the boy, startled by the sudden spark of pain.

What the…?

I’m amazed even more when I stare at the boy’s face and I notice something impossible happen. Something that I might not have seen if I didn’t have a wolf’s keen eyesight that can see fairly well at night in all this darkness. I have to second guess myself when it happens, but there is no denying that,indeed, what I just saw actually happened.

And now it’s happening again.

The boy’s lips are quivering. They’re quivering, because his body is trying to breath.

They wouldn’t be able to do that if he was dead!

But they are doing that which must mean that he is the exact opposite of dead. He is alive! 

I can hear a faint thump thump when I try to listen which makes me even more ecstatic! He’s not dead! I didn’t kill him! In fact, I think without even realizing it, I was taking away his pain which relieved his heart so that it can pump harder.

“Oh my God! Stiles! Stiles!” I call out to the boy, shaking him, frantically, trying to get him to wake up a little. “Come on! Stay in there! I need you to wake up a little for me. You need to fight it. Come on, Stiles!”

Without another thought, I jump up with the boy in my arms and run to where I remember him telling me his car is, the whole way ordering him to stay awake and to keep fighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks so much for reading my short story! The video link below is called I Know I’m A Wolf by The Young Heretics. I really liked the song/video when I first saw it and came up with this story as a result. I hope you enjoyed it and if you didn’t watch the video, please do! I’m not sure if there will be a part 2 as of now. I suppose it depends on the feedback I get. Either way, I hope you liked it and thank you again for reading!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8kTMB2UqQs4


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